


SUI

by carolej126



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Gen, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-06
Updated: 2015-06-06
Packaged: 2018-04-03 04:05:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,158
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4085986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carolej126/pseuds/carolej126
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Originally published in Remote Control 17 (Criterion Press, 2002).</p>
            </blockquote>





	SUI

"Hey, Jim," Blair Sandburg called out as the front door opened and the detective entered the loft. Closing the oven door on a soon-to-be-toasted loaf of garlic bread, he quickly set the timer before adding, "Perfect timing. Dinner will be ready in a few minutes."

"Sounds good," Jim Ellison said, giving an appreciative sniff. Hanging up his jacket and tossing his keys in the basket, he made his way into the kitchen. Moving close enough to peer over Blair's shoulder, his eyes brightened at the sight of spaghetti sauce simmering on top of the stove. He picked up a spoon, scooping up a small amount of sauce, and tasted it. "Mmmm."

Shaking his head in feigned annoyance, Blair grabbed the utensil out of Jim's hand. "Hey, no sampling the food."

"I'm just making sure it's edible," Jim countered in his own defense, a smile teasing at the corners of his mouth.

Blair snorted indignantly at the implied slight to his cooking abilities. "Yeah, right."

Jim chuckled. "Don't 'yeah, right' me. I still remember that pasta con aglio you made." He shuddered visibly. "Garlic cloves and red hot peppers."

Blair looked suitably chagrined for a moment, and then a cheeky grin lit up his face. "Maybe I should make sure it's edible, too." Slowly and deliberately, he dipped a finger into the sauce and then, with a mischievous laugh, stuck the digit in his mouth. "Mmmm."

"At least I used a spoon," Jim teased, accenting his words with a soft tap to Blair's head.

Blair shrugged. "Finger, spoon, still tastes good."

Rolling his eyes in fond amusement, Jim muttered, "Sandburg."

An unrepentant smile still gracing his face, Blair asked, "So, how was your day? Did anything interesting happen at the station?"

"Actually, it was pretty quiet for a change." Jim headed for the fridge, surveying its contents, before reaching for a beer. "But I made an arrest on my way home."

Blair shot him an incredulous look. "What happened?"

With a laugh, Jim shook his head. "You won't believe it."

"Won't believe what?"

Jim laughed again as he deftly twisted off the bottle cap. "Have a seat and I'll tell you about it." Moving into the living room, he sank down on the couch, making himself comfortable with a satisfied sigh.

Perching on the armrest beside him, Blair raised his eyebrows inquisitively. "So?" he prompted impatiently. "What happened?"

The detective leaned back against the cushions, a smile on his face. "I was driving down Troutman Avenue, heading for home."

"Yeah?"

"The light at Troutman and Lipscomb was red, so I stopped. Next to me, in the left turn lane, was a brown Ford Escort. For some reason I glanced over at the driver--"

"Cop instincts," Blair interrupted.

"Could be," Jim commented with a nod of acknowledgement. "Anyway, the driver's eyes were closed."

"Closed?" Blair echoed in disbelief. "Was he sick or something?"

"That's what I thought at first. So, I put on my flashers and got out of the truck. When I got over to the driver's side door, I could hear him snoring."

"No way!"

Jim chuckled. "Not only that, but the door was locked, the engine was running, and in one hand he was holding an open bottle of whiskey."

Blair's face was a picture of amazement. "Oh, man. What did you do?"

"I tapped on the window a few times." Jim's smile grew bigger. "When he didn't wake up, I pounded on the window. At that point, he slowly opened his eyes and looked at me."

"Oh, man," Blair repeated in astonishment, shaking his head as he imagined the scene. "Then what?"

"Then the car started to move."

"What?" Blair sputtered.

"Evidently his foot had been resting on the brake, because when he shifted in his seat, the car started to roll forward into the intersection. Luckily, there were no cars coming." Jim paused to take a sip of his beer. "So there I was, jogging down the road next to his car, banging on the window again and yelling for him to stop. It took a while, but he finally did. I identified myself and ordered him to open the door and get out of the car."

"Did he do it?"

"Oh, yeah. But..." Jim's mouth twitched.

"But what?"

"I asked to see his driver's license and registration and he reached for his wallet. But, as drunk as he was, he couldn't get it out of his pocket using just one hand."

"So, what did he do?"

"He tried to get me to hold his bottle for him."

Laughing helplessly, Blair choked out, "What?!"

Jim snorted. "There's more. When I wouldn't take it, he just kind of shrugged and raised the bottle up to his mouth."

"He didn't?!"

"He did," Jim confirmed. "That's when I glared at him and he dropped the bottle on the road."

Blair's eyes went wide. "Oh, no."

"Yep. It shattered on the pavement and sent shards of glass, along with whiskey, everywhere." Jim wrinkled his nose in disgust as the odor, undetectible to all but a Sentinel nose, abruptly registered on his senses even over the blended scents of garlic bread and spicy spaghetti sauce that permeated the loft.

Blair lifted an eyebrow in inquiry, noticing Jim's pained expression. "What?"

Jim gestured toward his feet. "Some of it must have got on my shoes." He quickly removed the offending footwear, placing the shoes outside on the balcony before reclaiming his seat. "Anyway, I called it in and when the uniforms arrived, he was charged with drunken driving and having an open container."

"Incredible."

Jim took a sip of his beer. "Yeah, it was."

"Well, you never know. Maybe that guy will--" Blair broke off at the sound of the oven timer. "Dinner's ready," he announced, clapping Jim on the shoulder. "Can you set the table while I get the food?"

With an enthusiastic nod, Jim rose from the couch. Quickly heading into the kitchen, Blair removed the sauce and the spaghetti from the heat before taking the toasted garlic bread out of the oven as Jim grabbed the necessary plates and silverware. A few minutes later, the table set and the food ready, both men were seated comfortably at the table and gratefully digging in.

"So, how was your day?" Jim asked, after making substantial inroads into his dinner.

Fork suspended mid-air, Blair repeated, "My day?"

"Yeah."

Blair shook his head ruefully. "Nowhere near as exciting as yours."

"Come on, Chief. Your days are never boring."

After a moment's thought, Blair's eyes began to twinkle in merriment. "Well, there was this student..." Amidst bites of spaghetti and garlic bread and accompanied by wildly waving hands, the anthropologist began to regale Jim with his own adventures and the loft was once again filled with laughter.

~end~

 

Author's notes: SUI? Sleeping Under the Influence! This story was based on a real event reported in the Florida Today newspaper on March 5, 2001.


End file.
